Drac: Dual Loyalty EPC 2009 Story
by Drake Koeth
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Star Wars. This story is purely fanfiction. ; Drac, a Mon Calamari starfighter pilot for the Vast Empire, finds himself in the interesting situation of being loyal to two very different governments.


Introduction: These three chapters are part of an ongoing character development story for my Vast Empire character, Drac. I'll include some basic biographical information on Drac here, so you know the character a bit and won't get lost:

Name: Dracule "Drac" Mihawk

Homeworld: Dac

Age: 23

Species: Mon Calamari

Native Language: Basic

Gender: Male

Skin Color: Dark, mottled blue

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 220 lbs

Hair Color: None

Eye Color: Orange

Markings: White birthmark slash on face/scar intersecting it 2/3 of the way up

Squadron: Nazgul (TIE Avengers)

Position: Flight Leader, third flight

Designation: Nazgul Nine

Rank: Petty Officer…somewhere in there. It's changed, lol.

Drac's EPC Stories

Story 1 – Suspicious Contact

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Stepping into his quarters on board the [i]Atrus[/i], Dracule "Drac" Mihawk stretched to get the kinks out of his muscles. Nazgul squadron had just finished a mission, and the debriefings had taken quite a while. Now that all that was over, though, Driver had announced a period of R&R for the squadron. They'd have ten days to take it easy, start bar fights, and go wherever they liked. For a fighter pilot it was heaven on…well, on whatever planet they happened to be orbiting at the moment.

The Mon Cal made his way over to the standard comm unit each room came outfitted with. Settling into his chair, he activated the display. The idea, such as it was, was to take a look at what Vectra had to offer. He hadn't had an extended Leave off-ship yet, so he'd not had the chance to explore the [i]Atrus's[/i] home planet until now.

Unbeknownst to Drac, he wouldn't be getting the opportunity to explore Vectra this time either. As soon as the unit finished booting up an incoming message tone sounded, surprising him. Curious, he chose to accept the message and sat back to view it. The holopad was blank and silent for a moment, then a burst of dots resolved itself into a familiar face…that of his father, Juracule Mihawk. Though their coloration was much different, the family birthmark rode clearly upon his father's head as well…a long, pale scarlike slash crossing one eye. Sitting up straight in surprise and not a little annoyance, Drac reached to turn off the message…but something made him stop. Settling back, he crossed his arms and awaited the contents of the message. Relations between his family and himself might be frigid as a polar icecap right now, but his father still deserved to be heard. After all, it wasn't incumbent upon him to take any action as a result of the message. With any luck it would be some sort of important news or perhaps an attempt at reconciliation; something easily ignored is what he wanted.

As the Petty Officer looked on, the message un-froze and his father began to speak, "Dracule, please hear me out. I know we have our disagreements, but please listen. It's vital that you follow the directions I'll be giving you at the termination of this message…not for you, me, or even our family though. It's not about our politics either. This is of great importance to our race and to Dac itself.

"I can't tell you how I know, son, but I know you have a long period of Leave before you. Before you do anything else, go down to Vectra and find a tapcafe called the Deep Current. Speak to the bartender there and ask for the Mern Cresh Krill. He will know what you speak of and will give you a datacard with certain information embedded in it. Please, view it and follow the directions it gives. For our race and our planet, my son.

"And remember, our family still cares for you, Dracule. Politics or not, we are your family. And…" the elder Mon Calamari sighed, "Your mother wishes for me to pass on that she expects you to be avoiding all intoxicants and the like…you know how she is." Now Juracule smiled, "I look forward to seeing you again, son."

Drac continued to direct a baleful glare at the now blank holopad for nearly a minute before settling back into his chair. [i]Inevitably, as by the tide we are pulled back and forth by conflicting loyalties. But by what right does my father think he can pull now? It's completely pointless, though. There's no good reason for me to expose myself just so mother can hug me again or so the Rebels can attempt to recruit me or whatever this nonsense truly centers on…[/i]

With a sigh the young Mon Calamari shook his head, giving up on reasoning a way out of this. His father knew him all too well. Once such a mystery was set before him, he couldn't help but attempt to find the true meaning behind it. Calling up the intra-ship comm system, he directed a conversation request to Driver's quarters. A moment later Nazgul's squadron commander appeared in the holopad's projection, "Drac. You're lucky you caught me. I was just about to step out of my quarters, finish up some squadron business. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I won't be able to join the squadron in busting up a couple bars during our Leave. Other business will most likely be taking me out of the area for at least a few days."

"May I ask what that business is?"

"Personal stuff, pretty much. My father sent me a message requesting a talk. I suppose I might as well aim for some reconciliation there. These days you never know what crazy warlord will commence a bombardment of your home planet and massacre all of your family."

Driver arched an eyebrow, "Being a bit melodramatic there. I understand your reasoning, though. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir. Don't work too hard or I'll have to leave word with Hunter that he's to drag you to one of the bar fights personally."

"I've been in more bar fights than you've been in bars, kid. Don't worry, I won't miss out on the fun."

Having finished checking in with the Ensign, Drac placed a call to the hangar that managed small private craft. He requested a preflight maintenance and fueling of the [i]Krakana[/i] and gave notice that he would be there in an hour to fly out.

That done, Drac set about getting ready. First came a refreshing cleansing, followed by a quick meal from his small food conservator. That done, Drac suited up in a nondescript black flightsuit and policed the weapons he'd choose to take with him. After all, his family [i]did[/i] support the Rebellion. In a worst case scenario this could all be one big setup to get him captured or killed…or more likely, an attempt to turn him to their side. The first weapon he selected was his trusty DC-15, one of the finest blaster pistols he'd ever had the pleasure to fire. His two FSK-7 Combat Knives followed, disappearing into the sheathes in his sleeve and boot. Next he slung his E-11 blaster rifle over one shoulder by the strap he'd attached. He rarely used the larger weapon, but the occasion might come when he needed it. The final ingredients in his arsenal consisted of two fragmentation grenades matched by a pair of smoke grenades. He was now equipped for all occasions, including shooting, stabbing, slashing, and generally blowing his enemies to whatever hell existed.

Story 2 - The Mon Calamari Knights

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A few minutes' walk brought Drac to the auxiliary hangar where the [i]Krakana[/i] was stored. The ship had already been prepped and was waiting for him in a small docket just off the flight line. Before he boarded the fighter, though, he stopped by the hangar's office to officially sign out and to confirm the maintenance and refueling had been completed. He'd seen what happened when a pilot tried to lift off in a ship still attached to a fuel umbilical. The result tended to be a little louder and messier, not to mention a whole lot deadlier, than he'd care to go through.

The paperwork done, the Mon Calamari stowed his arsenal on board the E-wing and mounted the ladder leading to the hatch. Standing at the top of the ladder, he reached in and picked up his helmet. It had been left there for him by the mechanic who'd moved the craft into position. Donning it, he clambered into the cockpit and sealed the canopy.

A quick pre-flight systems check showed all systems operational and reported a capacity load of sixteen potent proton torpedos in his missile magazine. The projectiles, combined with the ship's triple blaster cannons, made the E-wing the space faring equivalent to his personal arsenal. Running up the engines, Drac engaged the repulsor coils and the E-wing rose gracefully into the air. Some gentle jockeying of the control stick nudged the craft forward, then rotated it ninety degrees to starboard to accomplish the task of lining it up with the mouth of the hangar.

Ready to proceed, the Petty Officer activated his comm unit on the hangar's control frequency, "E-wing VE0263 to Atrus Hangar Control. Reporting all systems operational and requesting clearance to launch enroute to the planet Vectra."

The reply came back promptly, "This is Control. We have you on our schedule, two-six-three. You are cleared for launch. Good luck and safe flying, pilot."

"Much appreciated, Control. Two-six-three outbound." Exerting gentle pressure against the velocity control lever, Drac fed the E-wing's powerful engines more energy. A quick taxi brought his ship through the hangar's atmospheric shield and beyond the point at which backwash would harm anyone who happened to be behind the craft. As soon as he hit that point Drac punched the velocity control up to his usual cruising speed of sixty percent, half rolled to port, and dove toward the surface of the planet far below. His ETA to the base nearest the Deep Current was fifteen minutes, galactic standard time.

Minutes later Drac's ship was picked up by Vectra's flight control system, "Vectra Flight Control to unidentified E-wing. Please identify yourself and state your business."

Flipping the comm unit on again, the Mon Cal replied, "E-wing VE0263 to Vectra Flight Control. Imperial pilot heading down for supplies and a bit of R&R before heading out again."

There was a momentary pause as the registration of his ship was checked against the Vast Empire's records. That was the main problem with owning a fighter so famously used by the New Republic: It meant you had to jump through extra security hoops every time you entered a system. The reply did come, though, and not in the form of turbolaser blasts, "Control to Two-six-three. Registration checks out, voiceprints matched. Welcome to Vectra, Petty Officer."

-----

Drac visually scanned the room automatically as he entered the Deep Current. It wasn't likely that even the New Republic would try anything here, but you never knew. He'd come armed for just that reason, though only with his DC-15 and combat knives. The rest of his gear was a bit too obvious to be toting it around a populated city. The caution was in vain, though, as the other patrons ignored him. He walked up to an abandoned section of bar and waved for the bartender's attention. The bartender, an older Mon Calamari, glanced at him for a moment and stilled an arm he'd been bringing up to indicate that he would be with Drac shortly. Instead of completing the signal, the older Mon Cal set down the drink he'd been making and came over, "What can I get you, pilot?"

Casually, Drac set a ten credit piece on the counter top, "I'd like a Mern Cresh Krill, please."

"Certainly, sir. If you'd be so kind as to enter the private dining booth in the northeastern corner, I will bring your beverage to you myself," the other said, smiling now.

"Thank you, I'll do that." Leaving the credit chip on the counter, Drac turned and casually walked over to the private booth. Parting the curtains with one hand, he slipped inside and sat. The booth itself was pretty interesting, he saw. A holopad sat embedded in the center of the table, showing pictures of various scenic vistas to be found on Vectra. Well hidden from the outside, a commercially available privacy field would inhibit any attempts to overhear conversations taking place within. The heavy curtains added to the protection, blocking out any attempt to view the booth's occupants.

Five minutes later, the older Mon Calamari stepped into the booth and seated himself across from Drac, "You are Dracule Mihawk, son of Juracule and pilot in the VEN?"

Drac nodded, "I am."

"Excellent. I am Abroke…or you may call me that, anyway." Holding up a datacard, Abroke slid it into a slot in the holoprojector. "Place your thumb on the sensor pad. It will confirm your identity and if you are who you say, we will begin."

"And if I'm not?" Drac asked, amused curiosity and a bit of challenge in his voice.

"Then you will regret having come."

Shrugging, Drac pressed his thumb to the sensor node. A scanner light flashed across it and a needle pricked his skin. After this the projector went dark for a moment, then brightened into the countenance of Juracule Mihawk. Drac's father smiled, then spoke, "I am glad you did not ignore my request, my son. I think you, too, will be glad in the end. You see, our family is not what it appears to be. Or, more accurately, not [i]just[/i] what it appears to be. You know that I do serve in the local government of Coral City. Did you ever wonder, though, why several of the member of the Dac Council seek me out from time to time? There is a reason.

"I doubt you have ever heard of the organization before, but take a moment to think about the 'drink' you ordered. Mern Cresh Krill. MCK. Those letters stand for the Mon Calamari Knights, of which our family has long been proudly a part. And yes, I know the veil of secrecy we've used thus far has been thin. As little known as the Knights are since the rise of the Empire, we have little need to worry. But on to the Knights themselves:

"The Mon Calamari Knights were formed millennia ago with one express purpose: The defense of Dac and of the Mon Calamari people, no matter the threat. It is a brotherhood that goes beyond political boundaries, called upon only when needed, and mustered only when there is a threat against all we love and hold dear.

"I am telling you all this because it is past time that you joined the Knights. You would have been asked earlier, but the Council was wary of it. Your choice to join the Vast Empire was not a popular one among those who consider the membership of the Knights. However, I have convinced them that you do hold the survival of our people up as a matter of great importance. That, combined with your successes in your chosen career, has turned the tide.

"Dracule, son. The currents in the galaxy are twisted and chaotic. Danger and infighting permeate every civilization, whether many realize it or not. Dac, perhaps, encounters some of the most vicious of these currents. Our shipyards and the great vessels of war they create draw those who would use, enslave, or attack us. We are not without protection, of course, but even the New Republic has its own agenda. The Knights, though, stand in defense of their world and their people before all else.

"If you are willing to join the Knights, Abroke will provide the details for the next step in your journey. Please understand: You will not be called for missions often. Your service to the Knights would not seriously interrupt your service to the Vast Empire. And considering the small chance of the VE staging an attempt to wrest Dac from the New Republic, I am convinced that this represents no conflict of interests for you. I am only hoping and asking that you will follow in my footsteps and those of our ancestors and join in the defense of our people."

Finishing, Juracule smiled again, "So that is it, my son. You now know our family's greatest secret. It is yours to do with as you wish…accept your destiny with the Knights, or walk away. But I strongly caution you against exposing the Knights to your superiors. Nothing could save your life then."

The hologram faded and Drac found himself looking at Abroke across the table. The older Mon Calamari, waved a hand at the holoprojector, indicating the recently ended transmission, "So what will you do, young Mihawk? What is your choice?"

Story 3 - Squire

"My choice…why the sithspit do I have to make it now? Just like him to spring something like this on me." Drac vented, staring angrily at the holoprojector.

"I'm sure you realize just how important securi…" Abroke replied, but was cut off by Drac.

"Oh, I know. I know."Sighing, he sat back and closed his eyes, thinking about it. On the one hand, he wanted nothing to do with the New Republic as the rebels now called themselves. They'd caused far too much chaos in the galaxy for him to want any involvement with them at all. On the other hand, Juracule definitely knew how to play to his patriotism and love of his home planet. The point about the lack of contact between the Vast Empire and Dac was a good one as well. The odds of a situation coming about in which he would have conflicting interests was slim so long as the Knights remained true to their supposed credo of defending Dac and its people only. "Fine. I'm in. But only with the condition that I undertake no missions against the VE or its allies or any missions in support of the rebels. My interests are in defending Dac and nothing more. Is that acceptable?"

Abroke smiled, "It's expected. You would not be an honorable warrior otherwise."

"So what's next. Where do I go from here?"

"Home, actually. It will be dangerous, but you must make your way to Coral City on Dac. Your father will meet you there once you land and will take you to the Hall. You have a ship, correct?"

"I do. An E-wing space superiority fighter."

Appreciation flashed across Abroke's face, "A fine ship, that. Unusual choice for an Imperial pilot, though."

Drac just shrugged, "I'm not all that gung-ho about TIEs, except maybe the ones I fly. The E-wing is an excellent ship. Besides, it was a gift." Frowning now, he leaned forward, "I do have a problem, though. My E-wing's only identification beacon is a standard Vast Empire pilot's personal ship version. I may be a good pilot, but not even I'm good enough to get onto Dac flying that ID. I'll be blown to vapors before I even make atmosphere."

"Not to worry, my young friend." Reaching into his pocket, the elder Mon Calamari produced a circuitry box that contained an identification beacon, "This ID beacon is of a type made specifically for ships belonging to the Knights. Use it as your active beacon and you'll appear to be a mercenary or bounty hunter to those not in the know. Other members of the Knights will know how to recognize it, though, and will consider you friendly no matter the circumstances."

Taking the ID beacon, Drac balanced it in his hand, "Thank you. Is there anything else I need to know or do before I go?"

"You brought weapons?"

"Of course."

"Good. We have our enemies, even now. Be alert as you travel. Your father will explain the rest to you when you arrive. Good luck." Standing, the two shook hands.

"Thanks for the information. This probably qualifies as by far the strangest conversation of my life, though."

"Eh. The galaxy's a strange place. Come on back and see me some time, Dracule. Your father and I are old friends, so I'm always pleased to see you." With that, Abroke returned to the bar and Drac made his way out of the building and headed toward the hangar he'd left his E-wing in. He held the ID beacon in one hand, planning to switch it out during a course change in one of the seven systems he'd have to go through to reach Dac. It was a hassle to make so many legs in the journey, but necessary for secrecy.

-----

A full day later, Drac's E-wing reverted into normal space near Dac. Flight control sensors picked him up almost immediately and he stiffened when a pair of X-wings on patrol nearby broke off and came over to take a look. A moment later a transmission came through, "Unidentified E-wing, this is Dac Spaceport Authority. Please identify yourself and state your business in the system."

A little nervous, he flipped the switch that let him reply to the transmission, "This is civilian E-wing K-0157397, spaceport authority. I am here on business, planning to hire on with a local security organization."

"E-wing, please stand by for inspection by New Republic forces. Attempt to fight of flee and you will…" A new voice came on the frequency, "K-0157397, disregard last transmission. You are clear to land in private docking bay K-78 on Coral City. Welcome to Dac." Moments later the two X-wings flashed past, then looped around on a heading that would put them back on their patrol route. As they turned, Drac could have sworn that the one flying lead waggled its wings at him.

Twenty minutes later Drac was running his postflight checklist in a private docking bay in the northeast quadrant of Coral City. Everything checked out, but he paused to add one thing to his normal security precautions: A specific code that would be required in order to activate the ship. And since the E-wing was a top of the line military model, it'd take quite the slicer to sliver their way through the complex coding mechanisms and break in.

Removing his helmet as the canopy lifted, the Mon Calamari pilot glanced around the hangar. It was mostly empty, being occupied by only his ship and various tools, supplies, and pieces of equipment needed for maintaining spacecraft. It also contained another Mon Calamari, partially hidden behind a cloak. Drac hopped down from his cockpit and cautiously put a hand on the butt of his DC-15, "Hello. And you are…?"

The figure stepped forward, pulling the hood of the cloak away…the hood of the very familiar cloak. "Dracule, do you not recognize your own father any longer? It's hasn't been [i]that[/i] long yet, my son." Smiling, the older Mon Calamari reached out to embrace his progeny.

Rather than return the embrace, Drac drew back, "I'm here, father, but that doesn't mean I'm particularly pleased to see you again. Realizing that your life up to this point has been a long procession of deceptions tends not to be taken very well."

Looking surprised and disappointed, the elder Mihawk lowered his arms, "Dracule, you know I couldn't tell you when you were younger. You would have wanted to tell your friends all about it, and that couldn't be allowed. I would have told you sooner, but you chose to leave our planet and join that imperial faction. How could I tell you then? I had a hard enough time managing the problems that created for us here as it was."

Glaring accusingly at his father, Drac shook his head, "You might have mentioned something before I left, and you know it! It isn't like I hid my intentions from our family. Yet you chose not to mention anything, knowing you'd someday put me in such a difficult situation."

"If you're so angry about this, why did you come?" came the defensive reply. "You obviously don't care to see the family you abandoned."

"I came," the young pilot grated out, "because I do love my home planet and the Mon Calamari people. I thought that maybe, just maybe, that was a little more important than staying away from you."

Juracule Mihawk stared at his son for several long moment, his jaw flexing repeatedly, swinging his barbells with the motion. After a moment he shook his head, "We will continue this conversation later. For now, welcome to the Knights' Coral City Base. Come and I will take you to meet the current head of the Knights and we will induct you into the Knights." He turned then, posture stiff, and headed for the door.

Drac followed his father through a veritable maze of passageways. As they walked he kept an open eye, trying to observe this group he was about to join. There was little to see, though, as all the doors were locked and the few people they passed merely nodded and continued on their ways.

Several minutes of this brought them to a set of archaic double doors. Juracule pushed one open, entered, and stepped aside. Stepping through the doorway on his father's heels, Drac found himself facing a semi-circle of ornate desks. Seven elder Mon Calamari peered at him critically for several seconds. Juracule spoke quietly, "Dracule, this is the Council of Elder Knights, our ruling body. The centermost Elder is the Shieldbearer, the Head of the Knights." Then, even more quietly, he added, "Addressing Elders as you would fleet officers is appropriate."

Almost as if the quietly spoken words were a signal, the Elder stood and came around his desk. He advanced several paces, then gestured silently for Drac to stand before him. Noting an obsidian line on the floor, he quietly strode into position. Going to Attention, he saluted smartly and introduced himself, "Dracule Mihawk reporting as requested, Shieldbearer."

Nodding, the leader of the Mon Calamari Knights appraised the young pilot standing before him. Drac stood at a medium height. His black flightsuit and dark skin provided a sharp counterpoint to his bright orange eyes and the white birthmark that slashed across his head. The young one's posture was sure and solid and his weapons, even the hidden ones, were worn in a manner that told of experience in their use. It was an image likely to intentionally or unintentionally inspire fear and caution in an enemy. Now to see if the person within matched the person without. Returning the salute and leveling an even stare at Drac, the Elder spoke in a gravelly voice, "What is your political affiliation, young Dracule? Similarly, please describe your position within that affiliation."

"I am a pilot, a flight leader for Nazgul Squadron of the Vast Empire. Politically, I am dedicated to the Vast Empire's cause of defending its people."

"And you do not see your coming here as a conflict of interests?"

"The Vast Empire is not a nation much interested in expansion, and is far from here. The chances of strife occurring between the Vast Empire and the Mon Calamari people are slim to none. All I ask is that, if such a situation does occur, I be free to follow my conscience in the matter. That, and I request that I not be assigned any missions in support of the New Republic."

Silent for a moment, the Elder considered these requests, "I make no promises, young pilot, but we will do our best to assign you missions that do not present a conflict of interests…if you succeed in becoming a full fledged Knight, that is. Tell me, is Nazgul not an elite squadron?"

Standing even straighter, Drac replied, "The best, sir. I am proud to serve alongside such skilled pilots, and grateful to have even better commanders."

Reaching behind him, the Shieldbearer accepted the hilt of a sparsely decorated sword from the hand of a liveried knight who approached at an unspoken signal. Drawing the blade, he held it before him and said, "Kneel, young Dracule, if you are willing to join our brotherhood."Drac knelt, looking up. The Elder turned the sword, lightly grasping the smooth sides of the blade as he held the hilt toward the younger Mon Calamari, "Do you, Dracule Mihawk, swear to take up the sword of a Mon Calamari Knight, to serve and protect Dac and the Mon Calamari people to the utmost of your ability, and to never betray the existence of this order to anyone? If so, take the sword in your hand and swear it."

Drac's fingers met the cool, slightly ridged surface of the blade as he grasped it. The Shieldbearer released his own grip as the pilot spoke, "I, Dracule Mihawk, do swear to take up this sword of the Mon Calamari Knights, to serve and protect my home planet and my people to the utmost of my ability, and to never betray the Knights to anyone."

Now all the Elders stood as the Shieldbearer replied, "Then stand, Dracule Mihawk, Squire of the Order of the Mon Calamari Knights." Drac straightened, holding the blade parallel to his right leg, as the Shieldbearer gestured toward the knight from whom he'd taken the sword, "You will serve and learn from Acklin, Knight of the Mon Calamari Order. Study hard, fight harder, and serve to the best of your ability, young Squire. There is much that must be done, and we need good Knights to do it."


End file.
